blue?'
Delaney threw his cup in the bin. 'You're looking
into the Norrell thing, I hear.'
'You tag along any time you want to, Jack.'
Delaney nodded. 'Appreciate it, Jimmy.'
'You were due to see him this morning?'
'First thing, yeah.'
'Seems like a hell of a coincidence he was taken out
before you got there then.'
Delaney grunted. 'I don't believe in coincidences.'
'You think he genuinely knew something about
your wife's death?'
'Nothing in it for him if he was making it up.'
'Kevin Norrell was never a grass.'
'Yeah, well, your perspectives change when you're
standing naked in a shower surrounded by hardened
criminals. No pun intended.'
'True.'
'Or when there's a contract out on you.'
Skinner looked at him, a little surprised. 'You
think that was the case?'
'I think as soon as he started offering to sing like a
canary, someone wanted to snap off his beak and clip
his wings. Permanently.'
'He was meant to go down hard. That's for certain.
But if they thought he was dealing kiddie porn . . . ?'
He shrugged. 'Could just be that, cowboy.'
'It's too neat. Someone in there wanted him shut
up and quickly.'
Delaney and Skinner walked back towards the
CID offices. 'You saw one of the guys who attacked
him?'
'Martin Quigley. But he isn't saying anything.
Norrell smashed him up pretty good with a lavatory
bowl. Fractured his jaw in three places.'
'Helpful.'
'But he can write. He claims they took Norrell out
as a matter of course, like they would any other
kiddie fiddler, given half the chance. No other
agenda.'
'You believe him?'
'I don't know. He might have been roped in. He's
just as much an ape for hire as Norrell himself. Paid
to hurt not to think. And Norrell was involved with
Walker who was involved big time in kiddie porn. It's
a good cover story if you have another reason for
wanting him dead.'
Delaney said goodbye to Skinner, stuck his head
round the CID office door and beckoned to Sally
Cartwright. 'Come on, Constable, you're with me.'
Sally stood up from her desk, a little flushed,
quickly closing down the report she had been reading
on her computer. She picked up her jacket from the
back of her chair and joined Delaney.
He looked back at her computer as her screensaver
came on. 'What are you working on?'
'Just catching up with some paperwork.' She
avoided his eyes and headed briskly out to the
corridor. 'Where are we going?'
'South Hampstead Tube.'
'Sir?'
Delaney walked beside her and held out a photofit
picture that the computer artist had generated from
Valerie Manners' description of the flasher on the
common. 'Our man might have been wearing a suit,
she said?'
'Apparently. Under his mac,' Sally confirmed.
'So what does that tell us?'
'That flashing isn't just a blue-collar crime and he's
probably not a student.'
'Exactly, he's up too early in the morning for a
start. Maybe he was giving his John Thomas a quick
airing before putting in a hard day at the office . . .'
He looked at Sally and smiled. 'As it were.'
'Which do you reckon came first, sir? The book or
the expression? I've often wondered.'
'What are you on about?' Delaney asked,
puzzled.
'John Thomas and Lady Jane. Lady Chatterley's
Lover .'
Delaney threw her a look. 'I know you've got a
degree and all that shite, Detective Constable, but do
you think you could save the book-club chit-chat for
your weekend dinner parties and concentrate on the
case?'
'You reckon he was heading for the Tube?'
'He lives or works near here. And given the timing
it is more likely he was on his way to work
somewhere out of the locality.'
'So you think he lives somewhere near the heath?'
'Sexual predators like to operate within a comfort
zone. Somewhere they know well. So if something
happens they know where to run to.'
'And the murdered girl. Does she live locally, do
you think?'
The desk sergeant called out as they headed to the
front entrance. 'Good to see you back, Jack.'
'Cheers, Dave.'
Delaney threw his cup in the bin. 'You're looking
into the Norrell thing, I hear.'
'You tag along any time you want to, Jack.'
Delaney nodded. 'Appreciate it, Jimmy.'
'You were due to see him this morning?'
'First thing, yeah.'
'Seems like a hell of a coincidence he was taken out
before you got there then.'
Delaney grunted. 'I don't believe in coincidences.'
'You think he genuinely knew something about
your wife's death?'
'Nothing in it for him if he was making it up.'
'Kevin Norrell was never a grass.'
'Yeah, well, your perspectives change when you're
standing naked in a shower surrounded by hardened
criminals. No pun intended.'
'True.'
'Or when there's a contract out on you.'
Skinner looked at him, a little surprised. 'You
think that was the case?'
'I think as soon as he started offering to sing like a
canary, someone wanted to snap off his beak and clip
his wings. Permanently.'
'He was meant to go down hard. That's for certain.
But if they thought he was dealing kiddie porn . . . ?'
He shrugged. 'Could just be that, cowboy.'
'It's too neat. Someone in there wanted him shut
up and quickly.'
Delaney and Skinner walked back towards the
CID offices. 'You saw one of the guys who attacked
him?'
'Martin Quigley. But he isn't saying anything.
Norrell smashed him up pretty good with a lavatory
bowl. Fractured his jaw in three places.'
'Helpful.'
'But he can write. He claims they took Norrell out
as a matter of course, like they would any other
kiddie fiddler, given half the chance. No other
agenda.'
'You believe him?'
'I don't know. He might have been roped in. He's
just as much an ape for hire as Norrell himself. Paid
to hurt not to think. And Norrell was involved with
Walker who was involved big time in kiddie porn. It's
a good cover story if you have another reason for
wanting him dead.'
Delaney said goodbye to Skinner, stuck his head
round the CID office door and beckoned to Sally
Cartwright. 'Come on, Constable, you're with me.'
Sally stood up from her desk, a little flushed,
quickly closing down the report she had been reading
on her computer. She picked up her jacket from the
back of her chair and joined Delaney.
He looked back at her computer as her screensaver
came on. 'What are you working on?'
'Just catching up with some paperwork.' She
avoided his eyes and headed briskly out to the
corridor. 'Where are we going?'
'South Hampstead Tube.'
'Sir?'
Delaney walked beside her and held out a photofit
picture that the computer artist had generated from
Valerie Manners' description of the flasher on the
common. 'Our man might have been wearing a suit,
she said?'
'Apparently. Under his mac,' Sally confirmed.
'So what does that tell us?'
'That flashing isn't just a blue-collar crime and he's
probably not a student.'
'Exactly, he's up too early in the morning for a
start. Maybe he was giving his John Thomas a quick
airing before putting in a hard day at the office . . .'
He looked at Sally and smiled. 'As it were.'
'Which do you reckon came first, sir? The book or
the expression? I've often wondered.'
'What are you on about?' Delaney asked,
puzzled.
'John Thomas and Lady Jane. Lady Chatterley's
Lover .'
Delaney threw her a look. 'I know you've got a
degree and all that shite, Detective Constable, but do
you think you could save the book-club chit-chat for
your weekend dinner parties and concentrate on the
case?'
'You reckon he was heading for the Tube?'
'He lives or works near here. And given the timing
it is more likely he was on his way to work
somewhere out of the locality.'
'So you think he lives somewhere near the heath?'
'Sexual predators like to operate within a comfort
zone. Somewhere they know well. So if something
happens they know where to run to.'
'And the murdered girl. Does she live locally, do
you think?'
The desk sergeant called out as they headed to the
front entrance. 'Good to see you back, Jack.'
'Cheers, Dave.'
Similar Books
The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
